Mikveh

In the world of Mary Antin's Polotzk, the mikveh was far more than a public bathhouse; it was the sacred and social heart of a Jewish woman's existence, the place where the laws of the household and the body were made manifest. It was a large pool of standing water, its depth graded by a flight of steps, and its very name was considered indelicate to mention in the hearing of men. Every married woman was required to perform certain ceremonious ablutions there at regular intervals, a duty as strictly enjoined as godliness itself. The manner of attaining cleanliness was carefully prescribed, with attendants preparing the women for entry into the pool while curious children looked on, and the bathers were ducked over their heads the correct number of times. The water, which had been standing for days and neither looked nor smelled fresh, was a testament to a world without germs, where no harm came of such practices, any more than from the pails used promiscuously by feminine Polotzk. For those who were dainty enough to have second thoughts about the common bath, a private bathtub could be enjoyed in another part of the building for a fee of twenty-five kopecks, a luxury that proved that even in Polotzk, there were riches.